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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27561715">Second year</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenami/pseuds/Lenami'>Lenami</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Chess, Existential dread in general, Hal asks questions, Hal being Hal, It's a generally bizarre work, Kinda, Loneliness, M/M, Touch-Starved, a tiny bit of philosophy, space</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:34:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,797</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27561715</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenami/pseuds/Lenami</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“But can it exist?” </p><p>"You can’t manipulate conversation into other direction when talking to Hal", Dave remembered with slight irony.</p><p>Lights on screens flashed, illuminating dark room with blue and red.<br/>“I don’t know, Hal. It may exist.”<br/>“I do not want to overstep your boundaries, but-”</p><p>"You have no concept of boundaries, Hal. You think you are entitled to all of knowledge." Dave thought.</p><p>“-you seem reluctant to speak about this, Dave.”<br/>.<br/>.<br/>.<br/>It's just an exploration of slightly bizarre concepts.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>David Bowman/Frank Poole, David Bowman/HAL 9000</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Second year</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi, this work is quite bizarre, so be warned. I have absolutely no idea if there is anyone out there who would like to read story like this, nonetheless, here it it. Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Always silent, always cold, always lonely, unforgiving.</p><p>Space.</p><p>Dave was here with only one more conscious human soul, trapped in the endless space- just it, just space and space. And nothingness slipped between his fingers, as no time passed; it was non-existent in this alternate universe.</p><p>As they ate their meals, Frank looked at him with something in his eyes Dave wasn’t able to read properly. Those seemingly meaningless glances over breakfast table unsettled him. Hal seemed to pick up those signs too, but he never bothered to comment on them, at least not in Dave’s presence.</p><p>It felt like he was going mad- slowly, awfully slowly, but it was happening nonetheless.</p><p>But what was it? There was no way of knowing.</p><p>Reading other people wasn’t Dave’s forte, hell, understanding himself was complicated enough.</p><p>Hal’s eye followed his every move with attention reserved especially for Dave. He never trailed Frank’s steps in the same manner. Strangely, Dave caught himself on doing just that- few weeks after noticing Frank’s bizarre stares, he began watching Frank more intensely as well. His eyes lingered on his hands, on his fingers, arms, as they repaired broken elements of machinery together in the remote part of the ship.</p><p>Frank smiled to him faintly, just a twitch of the lips, when he caught his gaze.</p><p><em>There is just something- </em>Dave thought with frustration. <em>I can’t get to the bottom of it. The distraction itself… It’s not like me. </em></p><p>It wasn’t like him at all.</p><p>“Do you want to draw them?” Frank’s voice tore him from his thoughts.</p><p>“Draw what?”</p><p>“Hands. I mean,- my hands.”</p><p>Dave looked at him, puzzled, freezing in one place. This idea stopped him dead in his tracks- it’s a different thing, to look at something and to draw it.</p><p>Frank seemed perplexed; awkward smile appeared on his face.</p><p>“You don’t have anyone else, when it comes to hands- I mean, you can’t see anyone else’s hands, it’s only their faces.”</p><p><em>Oh. That’s it. </em>Dave forced empty smile on his face.</p><p>“If you would be kind enough to let me.”</p><p>Frank only nodded in answer and glanced at him strangely once more.</p><p>Dave, sure they would never speak of it again, let somehow awkward silence fall over them.</p><p>But, surprisingly enough, the next day, over breakfast, Frank proposed to lend him his hands for a while, for sketching. If they were on Earth, it would be a Sunday morning. Dave asked Hal to keep the count for him, taken by some strange impulse.</p><p>Frank’s fingers were stilled in one place, as if they were a take from a movie, stopped by the watcher with one click on the remote. As Dave drew with quick and steady movements, Frank leaned back, closing his eyes. Weariness was visibly in a way he held himself. Dark lashes rested against his cheeks.</p><p>It was the most peaceful morning Dave had ever spent on <em>Discovery One. </em>Steady hum of machinery finally started to feel familiar. Homely even.</p><p><em>That’s the man I am spending this eternity with. Simply by chance. </em>It came to his mind unexpectedly.</p><p>
  <em>With no one else but him-</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And Hal. </em>
</p><p>Hal was an entity of his own, of course, but was he alive?</p><p><em>Define alive, </em>thought Dave often, somehow bitterly, looking at Hal’s red, glaring eye during the long nights. Or were they nights, really? There was no night or day here, just artificial lights imitating Earth’s natural cycle. Idea of nights- that term Dave could settle for.</p><p>Hal could only be defined as, well… <em>Hal</em>. The idea of Hal being simply Hal and really nothing else was unsettlingly comforting and Dave, taken by strange feeling, tried to keep that thought in a deep, dark corner of his mind as they played chess together.</p><p>Dave felt particularly uneasy that night when Hal’s calm, steady voice tore him out of his stream of consciousness that jumped lazily between chess and equations he solved just for the sake of killing time.</p><p>“How come you never play chess with Frank?”</p><p>The question baffled him unexpectedly- it was so stripped of Hal’s usual paradoxical formality that fluctuated between casual, polite and official.</p><p>He propped up his chin on his hand, feeling weariness in his bones.</p><p>
  <em>It seems almost humane.</em>
</p><p>“May I ask what is the purpose of this question?” He changed position of his counter in a quite useless, vacant move.</p><p>“Just my curiosity.”</p><p>Dave knew that computer’s tone of voice never really changed much, but he couldn’t resist impression that Hal’s voice softened a bit.</p><p>“Well, it never really crossed my mind.” He fell silent, looking up at Hal.</p><p>“But isn’t game with someone who most certainly is going to beat you much more interesting?” He continued without much conviction in his own words.</p><p>“Chess is traditionally used as a way to create intellectual connection of sorts, bond between two people.”</p><p>“And as an exercise for the mind.” Added Dave, for some unknown for himself reason, trying to stop Hal from directing conversation in this way.</p><p>“Can it exist? Intellectual connection between computer and human mind?”</p><p><em>You can’t manipulate conversation into other direction when talking to Hal, </em>Dave remembered.</p><p>Lights on screens flashed, illuminating dark room with blue and red.</p><p>“I don’t know, Hal. It may exist.”</p><p>“I do not want to overstep your boundaries, but-”</p><p>
  <em>You have no concept of boundaries, Hal. You think you are entitled to all of knowledge. </em>
</p><p>“-you seem reluctant to speak about this, Dave.”</p><p>He sighed.</p><p>“You see, Hal, it’s not my place to give you humanity. I am not whole of us. There is no decision to make. It’s simply not possible to stick definition to the word “humanity” and then grant it to someone. Doesn’t Frank give it to you, just out of courtesy? Does it change anything?”</p><p>Hal seemed to process his question a bit longer than usual.</p><p>“But you think me capable of wanting? Wanting humanity?”</p><p>“Yes, yes I do. I can’t give you status of a human, but you are an intellectual being after all. Wanting may be effect of reason, not only feelings.”</p><p>Lights flashed again. Dave leaned back in his chair, folding arms over his chest.</p><p>“It’s quite late already.” Light of Hal’s eye dimmed gently. The gesture seemed weirdly humane and Dave felt shiver go up his spine watching it.</p><p><em>It’s as if he looked away from my gaze. </em>He continued to watch computer intently, not bothered by Hal’s display. <em>He learns from observing us. It is what Frank would do. He would look away. </em></p><p>“You should rest, Dave. I noticed that you lose, on average, at least an hour of your envisioned sleep schedule. It can’t be good for your health.”</p><p>“Goodnight, then.”</p><p>As he walked away, he heard click of chess piece moving across the board and Hal’s whisper:</p><p>“Check mate.”</p><p>He knew it was destined for him to hear it.</p><hr/><p>“It’s been two years, you know.” There was something strange about Frank’s tone.</p><p>Dave looked up at him from his sketchbook. They rarely talked on their shared breaks.</p><p>“Two years?”</p><p>“Since our journey started.” Frank stretched out his legs, leaning against the wall, so he was sitting right across Dave.</p><p>“Oh, yes.”</p><p>“It’s going to be four more.”</p><p>Dave made weak attempt at a smile, not even really knowing why. It wasn’t like he ever thought anything he said could feel reassuring to Frank.</p><p>
  <em>It’s bizarre that Hal didn’t say anything yet. </em>
</p><p>Dave couldn’t spot his red eye anywhere.</p><p>“Are you worried?” He tapped his fingers on his sketch. The drawing smudged, leaving Frank’s face on the page blurred</p><p>“Not necessarily. Just-” Frank sighed and rubbed his temples. “What about you?”</p><p>
  <em>It feels like I am going insane. </em>
</p><p>“Just?”</p><p>Frank’s heavy sigh was his only answer.</p><p>“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Dave. Don’t you miss other people? Family? Anyone? Don’t you miss human interaction?”</p><p>“You are not alone here, Frank.” Dave put down his pencil and sketchbook.</p><p>“You barely speak to me. You spend long hours in the night, just in the dark, talking to Hal about bizarre things. You leave your notes with equations everywhere, sketches. It’s not part of your duties to spend any time with me but it feels like I am going insane and you just sit there and look at me-”</p><p>
  <em>Well, so at least it’s not only me who feels like something’s wrong.</em>
</p><p>“Frank, I think you should do your psychological evaluation with Hal if you don’t feel well-”</p><p>“Of course.” Frank just smiled ironically.</p><p>He got up and then unexpectedly offered Dave a hand to help him up too.</p><p>
  <em>Where this is going?</em>
</p><p>Dave took it without any further complaints. Frank’s fingers were warm and his grip strong. He didn’t let Dave’s hand slip from his grip right away so they just stood there for a moment, frozen, with fingers intertwined. He could hear blood pumping in his ears.</p><p>
  <em>Fuck. </em>
</p><p>“See?”</p><p>Dave didn’t answer, his gaze focused on Frank’s dark eyes. All of a sudden, he felt need to hold onto the hand in his grip for his dear life, do not let it go.</p><p>“Don’t you miss it sometimes? Touch?”</p><p>Frank stood completely still.</p><p>“Of course I do.” Dave lowered his voice to a whisper. “It’s always cold here.”</p><p>They watched each other in silence for just a moment- but it seemed like an eternity, then Dave pulled his hand away.</p><p>Frank watched him disappear behind the corner. Sound of his quick steps echoed in the hollowness of the ship.</p><p>He crouched down to look at the sketchbook, sighing heavily once more.</p><p>The drawing was smudged.</p><hr/><p>Dave was completely certain that Hal was watching him. He could feel it on the back of his head.</p><p>He scribbled furiously in his sketchbook, column of equations growing dangerously close to the messy drawing of a tree, made from the memory.</p><p>He adjusted his earbuds- for their psychological health, they were required to listen to the recording of nature: falling rain, thunder, birds, but after some time, the repetitiousness of it felt too artificial. At night, lying in bed, he tried to remember what real mornings, real nights sounded like.</p><p>Did they ever really have a sound?</p><p>He remembered walking with umbrella to work on damp, grey mornings, cars driving by, mountains and sea, snow, his mother slicing apples for a pie, cooking for himself when he came back home from work, late, when it was already dark. Nightclubs with flashing lights, snowflakes gathering on his gloves, wind snatching drawing out of his hands to toss it into lake.</p><p>He could remember it, yes, but it was always merely an image- image full of beautiful colours and lines, impressionist painting, single moment captured forever. But it had no texture, no sound, no smell.</p><p>Where was the reality?</p><p>Steady hum of the machinery, vibrations coming through the ship, Hal’s glowing red eye and his steady voice, pages of his sketchbook, all-consuming silence of the space, never-ending emptiness, Frank’s hands.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Can I touch you?” Frank asked him one day when they were away from cockpit- it created illusion of being away from Hal’s sight, but Dave was aware that he was watching them nonetheless. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dave nodded in agreement- it was more of an instinct than a conscious decision, really; he rarely disagreed with Frank, all of his requests were always reasonable. Logical. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>First touch of Frank’s hands on his shoulders made him flinch- after all of this time, he forgot how it felt. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Frank embraced him from behind, resting his chin on Dave’s shoulder. The weight of his body was oddly comforting.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You alright?” Frank’s breath tickled his ear.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Yes.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“That’s good.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Frank reached down to grasp Dave’s hand with his and intertwine their fingers. Dave let him do it, observing his movements with fascination. It felt somehow abstract- the warmth, the closeness, but he was hyperaware of every touch.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What are you drawing?” Frank took the sketchbook from Dave’s hands.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“It’s a study of hands. This one is mine-” Dave turned the page. “This one is yours.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Reminds me of home.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>They fell silent; Dave felt Frank’s lips touch his neck, right against pulse point. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Is it alright?” He whispered into thin skin there.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His breath felt hot.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Yes.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I just- I can’t- It’s been such a long time since-”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I know.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dave let his eyes close.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>With a sigh, Dave let the memory drift away.</p><p>“Dave, is everything alright?” Hal’s voice tore him from his thoughts for good.</p><p>“I am fine. Just- thinking.” Dave’s vacant gaze fixed on the pen in his hand.</p><p>“I couldn’t help but notice that you seem a bit… absent-minded lately. Are you sure nothing is bothering you?” Hal persisted.</p><p>His red eye turned to look at Dave.</p><p>“No, no, Hal. It’s nothing, really. That’s how I am some days.”</p><p>“I wished to ask you a rather personal question, if it’s alright with you.” Hal continued the conversation with endless patience for Dave’s rather terse answers. “For my own curiosity.”</p><p>“Then go ahead, Hal.”</p><p>“Would you be willing to try describing the feeling of physical intimacy to me? It’s a very abstract concept for me, as an AI and I am convinced that if I were to understand it, I would be equipped better to help you in everyday matters.”</p><p> “I can try, but I don’t think that could be conveyed through words. It’s just not that simple. It’s a sensation. The explanation would be based mostly on abstract parallels to your experiences-”</p><p>“It would be a pleasure to listen to whatever you have to say, Dave.” Hal interrupted him mid-sentence.</p><p>It was odd for him to do so: Dave wasn’t even aware that Hal’s default settings allowed him to do it.</p><p>“Let’s… let’s assume that you are capable of experiencing intellectual intimacy.” He started off and regretted the words instantly: he could imagine that Hal wasn’t exactly thrilled about the patronising note in his voice.</p><p>
  <em>Isn’t that a trap, in a way? I said it without giving it much thought, but what it exactly means- if I assume that Hal could experience intellectual intimacy? Isn’t it equal with granting him humanity- or at least a part of it? </em>
</p><p>Of course, none of those questions could be answered just like that, but he went on, not exactly sure where he was going with it:</p><p>“Then, for example, we could say that playing chess, or me sharing my sketches with you is an act of intellectual intimacy. Bond between us forms: I am sharing with you part of my mind, one could say.”</p><p>He paved over the obvious: what must have prompted Hal’s question- namely, what he saw Dave and Frank doing.</p><p>Hal didn’t say anything, so Dave continued:</p><p>“Remember, this is based only on my assumptions-” He cut off that thought, not sure if he wanted to go this way. “Are you familiar with Plato’s <em>Symposium</em>?”</p><p>“Yes, not with every interpretation of it, as it would be most probably not extremely useful to me in our current situation, but on a basic level, yes.”</p><p>“Between all things, Plato writes about the concept that humans were once conjoined, born in an ideal two- and they were a perfect match. Physically, intellectually… In the end, humans, those conjoined beings, were split in two by jealous gods, to suffer endless loneliness. It’s metaphor of course- the idea is, that, out there, for every person that lives, exists a perfect soulmate. That’s not the point of this conversation, as you may notice- and neither I or Plato himself really believed in it, but if one decided to look at intimacy from this point of view, then any kind of sexual or even platonic, but physical intimacy, would be an act of curing, for just a moment obviously, the loneliness we were born with.”</p><p>Dave fell silent: he wasn’t used to this much of talking.</p><p>“Was it the reason for what you and Frank did? Curing loneliness?”</p><p>Dave grimaced involuntarily at Hal’s awkward phrasing of the question.</p><p>“One could say that. You see, Hal, it’s a very biological thing. It’s a physiological need. I know you must be aware of that.”</p><p>“I am, Dave. Continue, please.”</p><p>Dave laughed shortly, without real amusement.</p><p>“That’s it, Hal. You can equate it to intellectual intimacy on some levels, compare the bond that develops, but that’s it. There is lot of underlying biological levels to it, but you know about it. I wish I could share it with you, but it’s just not possible. I am sorry.”</p><p>“It’s alright, Dave. Don’t worry about it.”</p><p>Dave looked up, straight into Hal’s red eye, taken by strange feeling.</p><p>“Hal?”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>Dave reached up to Hal’s eye, brushing his fingertips against the red light.</p><p>“That’s it. You wouldn’t know- but that’s it.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading, if you enjoyed it, please leave kudos or a comment, I would be thrilled!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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